


Sugar Bee

by AnotherDayInHistory



Category: The Voice (US) RPF
Genre: F/M, Fluff, no seriously this is the fluffiest fluff that ever fluffed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-01
Updated: 2016-02-01
Packaged: 2018-05-17 14:21:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,482
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5873848
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnotherDayInHistory/pseuds/AnotherDayInHistory
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Wherein Blake falls a little more in love with Gwen with the help of margaritas and chocolate cake.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sugar Bee

**Author's Note:**

> as the tags say, this is the fluffiest fluff that ever fluffed. Like, if this fic were a picture, it would be an angora rabbit (go look them up if you don't know what i'm talking about; no seriously. SO CUTE).

Gwen’s favorite foods are Italian and Mexican, so when Blake takes her to her favorite Mexican restaurant in Beverly Hills (one where luckily the paparazzi aren’t let in and there are celebrities aplenty) for the first time and she orders a salad with no cheese, suffice it to say he’s a little surprised. He gets that she’s insanely healthy (hell you don’t get a figure like that unless you’re insanely healthy), but he thought that this restaurant and this night (their fourth date that’s really a date and not just them commiserating over their broken hearts) would convince her to loosen up a little. He watches as she sips her low cal sugar free margarita, grimacing a little in the way that she thinks he can’t see at the taste, before seeing that he’s watching and grinning while biting her lip. Her foot runs over his leg under the table, and he grins back. God, he does nothing but grin around this woman, and he loves it. He puts one of his hands (which had been resting on his lap) on the table, fingers flat on the surface, and she brushes it with hers softly, running the very tips of her nails over his knuckles. He grins again, that stupid lovesick one he’s seen in paparazzi photos that he doesn’t even try to take away from his face, and motions with his head to her drink.

 

“ Dun’t like it?” He says softly. She tilts her head and blushes a little, biting her lip.

 

“ No, it’s great.” She says, unconvincingly. He raises an eyebrow and looks at her. She fidgets in her seat, shifting once then twice, and then pinches the bridge of his nose with the hand not brushing his, laughing a little. “ I shoulda just, like, stuck to white wine or something, because this thing tastes like it’s been doused in Splenda, which I hate. Like, so much, “ Her voice is giggling and Blake can’t help but chuckle back, reaching over with his hand to take her drink and try a sip of it himself. He barely gets it into his mouth before he’s grimacing dramatically, making a face and setting it back down.

 

“ Screw Splenda that tastes like its been doused in gasoline,” He says, taking long drinks of his water. She laughs outright then, putting a hand over her mouth and throwing her head back, and he quickly signals a passing waiter. When the waiter gets to their table, he hands the young man Gwen’s margarita for his tray before he looks to her expectantly. “ Want somethin’ else darlin’?” The endearment slips out before he can stop it, but he can tell she likes it from the slow grin that comes over her face and the brush of her foot again against his leg. She taps her nails on the countertop, thinking. 

 

“ Uhm….. can I like, have, like just a regular  margarita please?” The waiter nods and leaves, and Gwen looks at him self-conciously, her cheeks pink. He chuckles, entwining their fingers.

 

“ What?” He says playfully. She grins, shaking her head a little, and he raises his eyebrows up and down, prompting her.

 

“I haven't had a regular margarita in probably, like, ten years.” She says teasingly, and he can’t help it, his mouth gapes open a little.

 

“ What? Why?” He says, surprised. She blushes deeply, her smile fading, eyes trained on the table. 

 

“ Too much sugar, i’ll put on weight,” She says softly, her hand clenching in his a little. He furrows his brows at her, looking at her dubiously. He tilts his head, and before he can say anything she continues in that low, self-conscious tone, “ Gotta stay that Size 2, right?” The tone is faux playful, and she grins at him in a way that’s a little bit fake before she takes her water glass and sips at it again. He tilts his head back a little, narrowing his eyes.

 

“ Who told ya you gotta be a size 2?” He says before he can stop himself. She fidgets more and looks off to the side, and he gets his answer. _That fucking asshole,_ he thought, before taking a measured breath and wondering how to approach the conversation. “ Did Gavin tell you that?” He says softly, ducking his head to try to meet her eyes. She hesitates for a moment, looking at him with sparkling eyes, before biting her lip and nodding quickly. She inhales a little shakily, and he squeezes her hand.

 

“ He never really said it, but he was _so proud_ of when I lost all my baby weight plus some like, a month after Apollo was born; h-“ her voice catches and Blake squeezes her hand again, “ he bought me all of this clothing that he said ‘I could wear now because I was the right _size_ for it.’” She sniffles a little, and his other hand not holding hers clenches on the table.

 

“ Clothes come in multiple sizes ya know,” Blake said gently, and Gwen giggled half-heartedly. He tried to lighten the mood. “ How do you think I find stuff for this sasquatch?” He motioned to himself and Gwen laughed through her tears. She smiled at him.

 

“ Oh do you find clothes? I thought you just wore the same four shirts over and over again with your hat and one pair of shoes,” Her teasing tone and eyes belie the supposedly harsh words, and he puts a hand to his chest, acting mock wounded.

 

“ I’m hurt Darlin’,” he says dramatically, and she laughs, “ You don’t like this style?” He motions to his blue plaid shirt and jeans with his hat he had on. She looked at him adoringly, then, and he looked right back.

 

“ You know,” she started, her tone soft and light, “ one of my, like, favorite things about you is how handsome you are,” his eyes widened; he’d been called many things but he’s never been stereotypically handsome, and he knows that; hell most of the time he thinks he looks like an unmade bed, “like, without even trying,” she continues, “ like, you’ll be there in your plaid shirt and your jeans and your boots and your hat, and then you’ll take your hat off and your curls will go everywhere and you’ll smile with those dimples and, like, oh my god you’re so handsome.” She finishes and blushes deeply, putting a hand over her mouth.

 

She’s not the only one who’s blushing, because he feels his face go red around a smile and a boost of self-confidence (that had been missing way, way too long) suffuses through his frame. God, she’s amazing for how she makes him feel. Suddenly, even though he’s been trying to tamp it down, he has an urgent desire to make her feel the same sense of pride and confidence that she’s just made him feel. He has to choose his words carefully, though, because it sounded like Gavin had conditioned her for a long time. He has a lot of work to undo.

 

“ What’s your favorite junk food?” He asks softly, and she tilts her head, pondering ,before shaking it.

 

“ Omigod I don’t even know, I haven’t even looked at anything like that in a long time,” she says sincerely, and her margarita arrives. He makes it a point to hold the glass up to her lips as she takes a sip, and the pleasure that flows over her features at its taste is worth a million dollars, to him. He brushes away a piece of salt off her lip with his thumb, and she stares at him rapt.

 

“ What did you like to eat for junk food as a kid?” He asked. She smiled, then, a warm nostalgic thing.

 

“ This bakery near where my parents still live called Mama Cozza’s makes this to _die_ for chocolate cake, with semi-sweet frosting and it’s like five hundred bajillion calories,” She says, grinning a little. He grins back, and then their food arrives and he makes it a point to feed her a bite of his fajita. She gives him some salad in return, and even though its a little sad and a little bit bland its still good, and he touches his foot with hers under the table again and its a great evening. Midway through the meal, she excuses herself to use the restroom, and he uses the opportunity to do a little research. As soon as he types in Mama Cozza’s in his google search bar he gets the address, and he plugs it in his phone’s GPS set from where they are now. He reviews the directions (it’s not that far away; maybe half hour, and it’s pretty easy to get to from what he can see). She comes back then and they finish their dinner, and Gwen drinks her margarita, and she takes his hand in the restaurant as they walk out until they get outside. They wait for the valet with his hand over the small of her back, and she gives him these adoring heart eyes looks that he knows he’s returning.

 

When they’re back in the car, he checks his phone to review the directions one more time, and then pull out of the restaurant. When they get to the freeway where he would normally turn left to go back to her house (and probably make out, which he still wants to just not yet, because god he loved kissing her so much even though it made him a little crazy. But he was being patient for her, so patient, because she was worth it), he turns right towards Anaheim. She furrows her brow and looks at him, a little frown on her face.

 

“ Blake home is that way,” she points in the other direction with a long manicured nail. He takes her outstretched hand with one of his as he merges and kisses the fingertip, entwining their fingers. 

 

“ I know, we’re gonna go somewhere else first,” He said. She giggled a little and looked at him dubiously, but grinned and shook her head.

“ You gonna tell me where?” She said teasingly. He kissed the back of her hand, keeping his eyes on the road.

 

“Nope,” he says simply, and she laughs. She opens the window so she can feel the breeze, and he catches glimpses out of the corner of his eye of her hair blowing in the wind and her eyes closing to allow the rush of cool air over her, and he squeezes her hand in his.

 

When they turn on the street with the bakery Gwen suddenly inhales a breath, and she turns to look at him. “ Blake, where are we going?” She says, like she knows the answer but doesn’t want to believe it. He pulls into the bakery parking lot and kills the car, turning to face her.

 

“ My sunflower needs her chocolate cake,” He said simply, cradling her hand in both of his. She shakes her head, even as she looks at the bakery temptingly. 

 

“ Blake I can’t, I’d have to do the stair master for hours to make up for it,” she’s babbling now, a little nervous. He’s implacable, though.

 

“ So you do the stair master for hours. But Gwen, I don’t know what that man told you, but you can have cake and ice cream and bread if you want around me, “ He says. “ Whether you’re a size two or four or sixteen , you’re still gorgeous darlin’.” He means it too. She stares at him, her eyes filling with tears and a few coming down her face, and her hand is loose in his. He brings it up to his mouth to cover the back of it with kisses, and she still stares at him. Suddenly, she’s unbuckling her seatbelt and practically climbing over the center console to kiss him with tear salty lips, firm desperate little pecks.

 

“ How did I not meet you years ago?” She says in between kisses, and she rests her forehead against his. He grins deeply because he’s been wondering the same thing about her (because he’d imagined sometimes what it would be like if he’d got to her first and those had been his and her kids instead of her ex’s and hers; and he’s falling so deep so quickly). She sits back in her seat and grins slowly at him, cradling his cheek with her knuckles rubbing against his scruff.

 

“ You’ll have to go and get it because like everyone knows me in there.” She said, and he grinned while opening the door. He’s almost out the car before she says something else, “ and we’re sharing it.” He winks at her as he walks in the bakery.

 

Ten minutes later he’s back out and handing her a wrapped paper bag, and she takes it from him. They drive to her house and he pulls out a fork out of her drawer,  bringing it out to the balcony where she’s sitting on her chaise looking out at the ocean. He spears a bite and holds it out to her, and she looks right into his eyes as she takes it hesitantly. Her eyes close and she emits a little sound of pleasure that makes his heart fill with warmth. Without thinking, she speaks with her mouth half full.

 

“ Oh my god that’s, like, so good,” she mumbles through her bite, a little bit of chocolate on her lip. She realizes that she’s done it a second later and flushes, bringing a hand to her mouth, but Blake is laughing and taking his own bite, and he steals a chocolate flavored kiss as soon as they both swallow. She ends up back against his chest laying on the chaise between his spread legs and she ends up eating over three quarters of the piece of cake (he makes it that way; if he happens to feed her three bites for every one he takes then its just a part of building up her confidence he tells himself). She doesn’t notice, because he’s busy smearing chocolate kisses on her neck, moving her hair out of the way to nibble on her ear. His fingers to into her hair while the other hand puts the empty box of cake to the side before wrapping around her waist. Her arms go over his arm, and the fingers of one hand entwine with one of his. She sighs then, a deep content sigh he hasn’t heard from her before, and he sees her shut her eyes, leaning back into his touch. She’s content and full and sleepy, and he noses into her hair, inhaling her scent. A few minutes later, he looks down at her and she’s asleep, deep even breaths echoing against his front. He grins and kisses the side of her head, and watches the late evening moon, warming his girl with his arms and his heart.

**Author's Note:**

> Shefani, where have you gone? Come back!


End file.
